"With Light Steam" and other adventures in Borovichi

Today I returned to St. Petersburg after four nights in Borovichi where life goes on at a much slower pace than the big city, where many people know each other, where people are very friendly and hospitable, and where the visit of an American is welcomed rarity. My hunch is that Borovichi is more representative of Russia than is St. Petersburg or Moscow. It is not a fairy tale village, but a thriving town of nearly 60,000 citizens. In 1770 it officially became a city at the decree of Elizabeth II, but according to my host, Sasha Paschen, who is a history teacher, there is evidence that people lived in that location beside the river Msta in Neolithic times - and that it has been continuously inhabited since the Stone Age. Sasha and his wife, Nadia, were born there and return every summer when their teaching duties are completed in St. Petersburg. According to Nadia, she lives two months every year in Borovichi; during the other ten months she simply exists. Their home is located in the outskirts of the town on a dirt road named after the famous Russian General Suvorov, about 300 yards from the river Msta. Around their home are many colorful and decorative wooden houses, many over 100 years old. My first impression on arriving at their home is how quiet it is there; the calm is palpable and relaxing, inviting frantic visitors to live at a slower pace.
On the 4th of July, after hanging a big American flag on a wall of their veranda, Sasha and I walked to the center of town stopping at two beautiful churches on the way. One church has been reopened only this year after much restoration. I asked a woman attendant there when the church had been founded. She said, "Seven hundred years ago". In the center of town we bought provisions for our 4th of July party including over 4 kilograms of pig's neck which is excellent barbecuing. Back at their home we spent several hours cutting the meat and putting it into a marinade which Sasha brewed.
Sasha's sister, Nina and her husband, Sergae dropped by driving his big military green van. After a leisurly tea Sergae drove us back into town where we picked up some charcoal (which we had forgotten in our morning shopping) and then drove us around the town, stopping briefly at an old castle.
In the evening, over the course of three or four hours, various relatives, friends and neighbors dropped by to enjoy the barbecue and to wish me a happy 4th of July. After the next door neighbors finished eating with us, they went home and soon returned with a big bowstrawberriesrries picked fresh from their garden. Russian strawberries tend to be smaller and much more sweet and flavorful than ours. Eating them was a real treat. When each new guest dropped by, Sasha would give a toast to "the Great American holiday, Independence Day". In turn I toasted Russia's Victory Day. (This year Russia celebrated the 60th anniversary of their victory over Germany in what they call The Great Patriotic War. Estimates are that about 20,000,000 Russians lost their lives in that war. If it had not been for their valor and sacrifice, America might not have been able to conquer Hitler. Sasha later told me that his father had gone to the front at age sixteen.) During the meal I was surprised that I was able to call my parents on Sasha's new cell phone. My Dad said that I sounded very clear.
The highlight of the next day was Kolya's banya. Kolya (short for Nicholas) is another cousin of Sasha's. His home is a ten minute walk away. Although he had to work, he invited us to prepare the banya.Sergeysha, Sergai, and I, with the help of Sasha's aunt Rita, "Tyota Rita", made a fire in the banya furnace and kept nursing it along until it was ready to be used, a process that lasted over four hours , time for Tyota Rita to serve us some soup, potatoes and tea and to chat a little about her life and Sasha's late father, and show us family photos.
Going to a Russian banya (bath) is one of my favorite experiences. Banyas come in different sizes and shapes, but all have a brick furnace over which is a big basin for water which is brought to a boil. The rest of the banya is made of wood and little benches line the walls. There are ample containers for water to be mixed to the right temperature for bathing. When the furnace isgeneralseated, it generats lots of heat and steam. More steam can be made by throwing water on heated stones in part of the furnace. The heat and steam makes bathers sweat profusely. Another feature of the Russian banya is the use of a venig, a bundle of leafy birch twigs. After the venig is soaked in boiling water, it becomes soft and aromatic. We beat ourselves and each other with the venig opening up the pores of our skin and expelling dirt I didn't know was there. We only spent about five minutes at a time in the main room of the banya; then went to the outer room to cool off and drink beer. The banya is a real communal experience which gregarious RussiaSergeye. Sasha and Sergai told me that they have solved many world problems in a banya and that "in a banya there are no generals". At one point I lay on a shelf next to the furnace and Sasha thrashed my back and legs with the venig. He told me my back was red and asked if it hurt. It didn't. After many sessions of steaming and washing ourselves, we finally left the Banya and cooled down, first in the outer room and then outside. Two women who had been patiently waiting entered the banya. Impish Sasha snuk in and made a photo of them. Since, even my mother-in-law agrees that the photo is not pornographic, I decided to publish it. When bathers finally emerge from a banya people say to them "With light steam!" a phrase that is awkward to translate into English, but basically means "I hope you had a good bath".
On my final day in Borovichi Sergae drove six of us about 30 kilometers into the beautiful countryside where the forests, rolling hills, and occasional farms and clusters of houses reminded me of northern Idaho. We visited a two-story log house visited in by General Suvorov. (General Alexander Suvorov (1730 to1800) is one of the great heroes of Russian history perhaps most famous for his heroic crossing of the Swiss Alps Napoleon9 campaign against Nepolian). I enjoyed seeing the many wildflowers around the building including the unique "Ivan da Maria" which has bright yellow and violet blossoms on the same stem. We drove to a nearby lake for a picnic. To my surprise, Sasha had brought the American flag, and they insisted on displaying it for some photos. Many Russians have told me that they think the American flag is beautiful. They feel little emotional attachment to their current red, white, and blue flag.
Then we went to the Suvorov museum where I was able to ring some beautiful old bells by pulling on cords.
In the evening we celebrated Ivanovsky Noch with another barbecue. Ivanovsky Noch, or "Night of Ivan, the swimmer" is a very old, pre-Csuppressed folk holiday. It was supressed, if not banned during Soviet time, but has had a recent revival. The idea is that July 6th is about the time when most rivers are warm enough to swim in. People gather by the river and make fires which some young people jump over. Girls put flowered wreaths on their heads and later toss the wreaths into the river. Brave souls jump into the water at midnight for a swim. Even well past midnight there is plenty of twilight for these festivities.
This year we did not go to the river, but had our barbecue on Paschin's veranda. At about 11:30 p.m. Masha and Katya arrived from St. Petersburg where they had completed their last final exam. Even though their clothes were casual, I was amazed at how stylish and beautiful they looked - like rock stars. (Later Katya showed psome new slacks she had purchased. There was still a large tag on them which said in English "BIG SALE") The twins arrival was like a breath of fresh air, bringing new vitality and excitement to our modest celebration. I didn't get to bed until about 2:00 a.m. I got up before 4:30 a.m. to get ready to make it to the train scheduled to depart at 6:00 a.m. It was already quite light outside. The whole family got up as well to say good bye. Katya said that she hadn't even gone to bed all night. A taxi arrived, I said my final farewells, and Sasha went with me to the station. We were early and had time to have a good conversation including his appriasal of the degree of difficulty of Russian authors. I had purchased an old book of Ivan Bunin to try to read on the train. Sasha said that Bunin was a wonderful writer, that each word was just right. He said that he especially loved a short story called Antonovsky Apples. On the train we hugged each other in an emotional farewell. He departed and soon the train pulled out.
I was in a platzcart the open sections of the train (rather than a closed in coupe) in which most Russians travel. I shared the open compartment with a beautiful, stylishly dressed young woman (sorry, I took no photos) perhaps 22 years old, who had visited America two years ago and who spoke English. She told me she is from Borovichi, but now lives in St. Petersburg where she works as a manager in a trade center. She visits her parents in Borovichi once a month. Her name was Diana. She reminded me that Diana was the goddess of hunting. I asked her if she liked to hunt. "Sometimes", she said with a smile. She explained to me how to purchase sheets and a pillow case to make a bed on the bench. I pulled down a rolled up mattress, made the bed and by 7:00 a.m. I was lulled to sleep by the click clack and swaying of the train. When I finally got up we were nearing St. Petersburg. When we arrived Tanya and Svyatoslav were on the platform to greet me. I briefly introduced goddess Diana to them. Tanya said that I attract such beautiful women as honey attracts flies.
After two stops on the metro and a short walk we were home. Russians say, "Travel is good, but home is better" which is the equivalent of "Home, sweet home".
I had a good meal and Svyatoslav helped me download my photos to the computer. Then we heard the terrible news about the terrorist bombings in London in the metro there and I think on busses, although I got few details so far. What perilous and perplexing times we live in! I regard my travels not as an escape from the struggle against tyranny and terrorism, but as a purposful effort to combat these evils with face to face contact with people who have a very different background, culture, and language than me. I completely agree with Rick Steves who has written that travel is one of the main ways of combatting terrorism.
The photos below are in rough chronological order starting from the top.
I eagerly welcome comments from anyone who reads this blog.